


July 17

by Onlymostydead



Series: Fictober 2019 [9]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily, Food, Gen, Humor, References to Canon Typical Subject Matter, Time Loop, Trans Male Character, Trans Tim Drake, canon typical injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 16:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymostydead/pseuds/Onlymostydead
Summary: Tim's eighteenth birthday is finally tomorrow... That is, if this time loop will ever let him get there. For some, indistinguishable reason, all that keeps happening is that he relives the day previous.Or, the one where we ask DC if Tim'll ever be an adult or not.(Credit to a tumblr post for the idea!)





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this saved for a while, so Fictober day 11! Not late by my time zone, and, uh...
> 
> This was the last like, fully written one I had, so...
> 
> I'm doomed now.

Nothing at all was significant about July 18... For anyone else, that is. His birthday hadn't been a big deal for Tim in a long time - since his back when mom was around - but still, there was still a certain significance to turning eighteen.

Eighteen! Tomorrow! It almost seemed too weird to be true. On one hand, Tim had felt like an adult for a long time, since he was still a little kid, really, but on the other... Part of him felt like hd would never truly grow up.

"Drake! Stop your daydreaming and actually get some work done." Damian snapped, rolling his eyes.

He still wasn't entirely sure who taught Damian to roll his eyes (In hindsight, it was probably him. He was the one who did it the most often... Other than Steph.), but it was getting annoying. If he did it at appropriate times it wouldn't be, but...

Tim shrugged. "I am getting work done; downloading the files in the Mortonson case from the police station."

Damian scowled. "Fine."

Scoffing, Tim turned back to his work. The files were almost downloaded, anyway; not a lot of time for daydreaming.

But still, he had to admit: eighteen would be exciting landmark, even just for himself. If someone had told him four years ago that he would live to be this old he wouldn't have believed it.

But that was just depressing. Never mind.

Download finally completed, Tim pushed those thought back and really got to work.

*** 

He was just closing one police report, jotting down notes on the important facts, when he was interrupted again.

"Drake, you should take a break for lunch." Damian insisted, not quite to the point of removing him from his chair.

"I already told you, Dami," Tim opened another file, scanning the second police report for the inconsistencies he was looking for. "I've almost got this, I swear."

Damian made a noise very similar to Bruce's signature 'disappointed/annoyed growl,' but far more high pitched. "That is what you were saying an hour ago!"

"Why do you care, 'lil D?" Tim used the friendly nickname in an attempt to get him to leave him alone. "What, do you think you're my babysitter?"

Damian huffed. "Grayson told me to make sure you eat. Believe me - if it had been up to me, you would starve."

"Okay." Tim shrugged. "I'll be done with this in a moment though, I've almost got all of the different scenarios posed by the witnesses, got some definitive collusion going on here, and someone's bribed at least one of the officers involved..."

Overexaggerated as ever, Damian turned on his heel as took three, clomping steps. "I do not care a bit about you. Die down here. Starve yourself to death in the throws of your poor self-preservation."

"Alright, thanks Dami." Tim called back, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

He could feel that he was hungry, for once, but that didn't matter. He'd even eaten breakfast this morning - that was new. Usually it was just black coffee and a cough drop. This sore throat had to go away sometime, but it had been stubbornly persisting.

"I am serious!" Damian called again.

Tim sighed. "I know."

"I will not desist until you remove yourself from that chair!"

Tim, knowing it was immature, stood up, stretched, and sat back down. His back did not feel good- he likely needed a break from his binder... But that would come after lunch.

"That is not what I meant and you know it. You are being deliberately stupid." Damian stated, all but stamping his foot. "I cannot believe you are about to be an adult."

"See if I care." Tim called back with a grin.

***

He ended up working through lunch entirely, then going and wolfing down a healthy (a.k.a. not at all) dinner of ramen noodles and leftover chicken at seven thirty. Alfred had given up at making sure they all ate at around the same time, switching to making sure there was food available for hungry persons at all times. He did that most days, anyway. Tuesday's and Thursday's usually had a schedule to them, since Bruce had more meetings those days.  
But it was Friday, which was basically the best birthday combo ever; since he would get to sleep in to an ungodly hour on his actual birthday. He had thought through this a ridiculous amount as a kid.

"Wow." Duke popped his helmet off, setting it down on the bat-computer desk. "Do you always eat like that?"

Tim slurped the last of his noodle into his mouth, wiping off his chin with the back of his hand. "No."

"...alright. Sure, Tim. Sure."

"How was patrol?"

Duke shrugged, starting to strip off the rest of the suit, too. "It was alright. Kinda crazy, though. Red Hood - Jason, sorry. Jason was having some trouble on his end, so the whole city was a bit wild."

"The night crew have their work cut out for them, then?" He guessed.

"Ohh yeah." Duke winced. "Good luck with that, dude."

Tim groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Well, being out there is better than being stuck in the manor with an injury, at least."

"No kidding. I'm gonna go get some food, I'm starving." Duke waved, grabbed his suit, and walked off.

His own dinner, if you could call it that, had been a welcome distraction from the Mortonson Case... While it lasted. He finished up, and it was back to figuring out who was involved with who, and why they were acting the way they were. Nobodies stories made sense.

As much as Tim loved his job, it got a little repetitive. It felt like he had been doing this same case all week. It was all just rich families with hard feelings and connections to drug trafficking. Or human trafficking. Or illegal weapons trade. They all just blurred together, after a bit.  
Yawning, he pulled away from the desk. Thirty minute nap, then he would come back to this. After that, patrol.

***

There were quite a lot of lights on the ceiling of the batcave. If he could stop losing track every time the alcohol touched - fuck - his skin, Tim would have been able to count them by now. Probably. Unfortunately, though- 

"You know, it is not THAT bad." Damian rolled his eyes again, his new favorite thing to do, and crossed his arms. "You are just being a big baby about it."

Tim grit his teeth. "You're not the one who got slit."

"I believe 'sliced' is the word you are looking for." He argued. "'Slit' sounds gross."

"What, you don't like the sound of the word slit?"

Damian's nose wrinkled. "Stop."

"Why? What did 'slit' ever do to you?"

"Alright, that is quite enough, Master Timothy." Alfred cut him off, still lightly dabbing at the wound with alcohol, making him wince every time. "The filthy nature of the blade used did increase the amount of pain he is in, Master Damian. I would guess that he is not just being over-dramatic."

He rolled his eyes again. "Whatever... And the word 'slit' is, in fact, quite uncomfortable."

Tim shrugged. "Alright."

The cut really didn't look too bad. It was fairly shallow, about eight inches long from the outside of his hip down his thigh. Of course it had to be one of Two-Face's goons; they never seemed to be clean or well-kept. So Alfred had to take a few extra precautions before bandaging, so it wouldn't get infected.

"You know, I could have taken care of this myself, Alfie."

"Nonsense, Master Timothy." Alfred kept up his work with the alcohol, gently working his way down. "I can't risk blood poisoning."

"That was one time." 

He chuckled. "That is was. But it still happened, nonetheless."

"I was a kid." Tim pointed out. "You know, I'll be an adult tomorrow. I can take care of myself."

"What a scary thought." Alfred winked. "But I don't think eighteen is what qualifies adulthood. Master Bruce didn't seem an adult at that age... and yet, in the same way he was an adult much younger. Or perhaps he is still a child, from how he behaves."

Tim snorted.

Damian clicked his tongue. "You are not an adult, Drake, and you hardly take care of yourself."

"That's not true."

He stuck out his tongue at him. Seriously, was this the kind of influence Dick was? This was kind of hilarious. He almost acted like a normal eleven year old... Almost.

"There. Now all I have left is adding an antibiotic ointment, and bandaging. The torture is almost complete." Alfred threw away the alcohol wipe, and dug around for the ointment. "You are fortunate that this requires no stitches."

Tim shuddered.

"Though, you may wish to hold still."

"There is no reason to be afraid of needles." Damian said, smirking just a little bit.

He shook his head. "In Gotham? There's every reason to afraid of needles."

"Not if you avoid the drug addicts."

"Damian that's not how... you're ridiculous."

"Mm, that is your opinion." He slid off the counter. "I am going to find something better to do; teasing you is boring me."

"Does that mean I won?" Tim called back.

"You called me ridiculous! That is not even a real insult. And I called you boring!"

"...fair."

"What?"

"I said you are ridiculous!" Tim yelled.

"Fuck you!"

"Oh, real mature." Tim rolled his eyes.

He hated that it just reminded him of Damian now. Gross.

"Language, Master Damian." Alfred scolded, but he doubted that he heard.

"Kids." Tim shook his head.

He laughed as he popped the cap back onto the ointment and reaching for the butterfly bandaids. "I would not laugh so soon, Master Timothy. You are not an adult yet."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just messing around."

"Never change, Master Timothy." Alfred still smiled as he shook his head. "Never change."

He finished up bandaging Tim's thigh, then sent him back up to the manor. Sleep did sound good right now, even with the nap he took earlier in the afternoon.  
So he stumbled on up, changed into a big tee shirt and boxers, and fell fast asleep.

***

Tim smacked his phone when the alarm went off, snoozing for another nine minutes. Why did they choose to make it nine minutes? Does that make sense to someone? Why not ten? Or did ten seem like too long?  
After a while of thinking about that, Tim was forced to just get up. It wasn't worth it to lie in bed, pretending to sleep for another nine minutes, thinking about why the snooze option was nine minutes long.

As it turned out, it was nine minutes because originally, when alarm clocks were made back in the fifties, that was one of the only way to get it to work. Go figure.

He showered and brushed his teeth, like a real adult, and stayed in his pajamas because honestly? He didn't need to get dressed today. He had nowhere he had to go.  
And that was a good thing, too, because his throat didn't feel any better than yesterday. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten actual breakfast. The black coffee and cough drop had been doing him just fine so far. 

Regardless of that, he slouched his way down to the kitchen. It probably was a good idea to eat breakfast, even if it was just cereal, but he was certainly having that coffee. He was dead tired after... 

...Last night.

Where did his scratch go? There were no bandages on either of his legs, and his left thigh was definitely not sliced or slit. That was... Odd.

But, then again, weirder things had happened before. He would just have to see if anyone with healing power had been over.

Thinking through the possibilities, Tim started the coffee maker, and went for the cereal cabinet.

***

Eighteen. That sure was a weird time marker, wasn't it? Though, if Tim hadn't been keeping better track of the days than he normally did, he wouldn't have realized it was his birthday at all. Someone (probably Jason... Or Steph, or Cass. Or Steph and Cass.) had changed all of the clocks to say it was still the 17th. That must have taken a while, too. The bat-computer did not take kindly to that kind of changes. Maybe Babs helped out.

But he was an adult now... Sort of. Sure, he had technically been legally emancipated for a couple of years now, just to make things easier, but this was the socially acceptable landmark. 

What was weird though, was how Cass didn't say anything to him about it. She would normally crush him in a hug, or sign a big "Happy birthday, ugly bastard man" to him, but she was totally silent.  
Maybe it had something to do with the clocks. That would make sense. If so, Steph was involved. She loved surprise parties.

Yeah, that was probably it. What it didn't explain, though, was how all of his work on the Mortonson case was suddenly gone. Completely, entirely disappeared. He had already solved it, and was just going to send the work to Bruce in the morning. Now? He had to go though and find support for all of his conclusions... Again. But first, he had to re-download the files from the police station, because even those didn't stay.

Irritating.

"Why are you just sitting there, daydreaming? Get back to work." Damian scoffed. "You never get anything done, ever."

"Weird deja vu, but okay..." Tim raised an eyebrow. "And I'm re-downloading the files on the Mortonson case, since someone lost my data. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"No." He frowned. "I did not do it... And did the police not just investigate the evidence last night?"

"Two nights ago now, and... Whatever."

"Fine."

Happy birthday to me, Tim thought to himself, watching the percentage downloaded slowly tick upward.

***

"You should take a break and eat some lunch, you know."

He gave Damian a weird look. "Is this just going to be normal, now?"

"Is what just going to be normal now?" 

"You telling me to eat?" Tim cocked his head to the side. "You did it yesterday too, remember?"

Damian frowned, rolling his eyes; that particular habit had already gotten very, very old. "I did no such thing."

"O-kay..." Tim shrugged it off - if he wanted to deny it, that was fine. "I might eat lunch, later, K?"

"You know, missing your spleen as you are, one would think you might take better care of yourself." He scoffed. "And I would not have checked with you if Grayson had not sent me!"

"Okay, I don't really care."

"You are insufferable." Damian's face scrunched up.

Tim went back to typing. "That's not even a real insult."

"Whatever, fuck you."

"What is with your language recently?" Tim raised an eyebrow. "Have you been hanging out with Jason too much or something?"

Damian rolled his eyes yet again - Tim wanted to strange him. "I am eleven, I believe I should be allowed to curse in my own right."

"Ugh, was I like this when I was that age?"

He frowned. "I would not know, why-"

"If so, I'm sorry." Tim continued, ignoring Damian. "This is awful."

"You are awful."

"Everyone knows if you have to resort to insulting like that, you've lost." He pointed out.

"Well..." Damian paused. "I may be eleven, but you look eleven."

"Ha ha." Tim rolled his eyes, hating himself for it. "A joke that no trans guy ever has ever heard before, thank you."

"Whatever, you are impossible to please."

"Oh, so you're trying to please me?"

"Shut up! Starve here if you'd like, I do not care." With that he stormed off, leaving Tim to re-check his work.

Eleven year olds. He rolled his eyes and got back to work.

***

Maybe getting lunch wouldn't be so bad after all, though, Tim thought to himself, unwrapping his fifth cough drop of the day. Or at least some yogurt or something. His throat was feeling a bit better than the morning, at least. No better than yesterday though, which was strange, because it really did seem to be on the mend. Weird.

And if Dick sent Damian to check on him, wouldn't he have reminded him about his birthday? That was... Definitely getting weirder.

But the Mortonson case was all here now, he had all the facts, so he just had to type it all up... Again...

Maybe lunch really was a good idea.

Yawning, Tim pushed back his chair and padded his way over to the fridge. What really sounded good was some more of the leftover chicken he had last night, but he was pretty sure he ate it all.

Except... There it was.

What kind of prank was this?

One that he wasn't complaining about, at any rate, as he heated himself up some chicken. Someone would be explaining later, but... This was just too good to pass up.

***

With the case sent in before dinner, when Duke got back from patrol Tim was once more slurping on some ramen noodles. Two days in a row probably wasn't the healthiest decision to make, sure, but... It was easy, and there wasn't anything left in the fridge that sounded good. 

"How was patrol?" He asked, mouth half full, slurping the rest of the noddles into his mouth.

Duke groaned, pulling off his helmet. "Crazy. Red hoo- Jason. Jason's having some trouble on his side, so everything's a little rough."

"Night crew can look forward to some excitement?"

He grinned. "You bet. Do you always eat like that? You're barely even breathing."

"It's a talent." Tim slurped some more noodles, then pointed the fork at him. "For a second I thought you were going to call me out for eating ramen noodles two nights in a row."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "What? Last night we had Alfred's chicken, remember?"

"I mean, I had some of it leftover." He agreed, wondering if Duke had some of it too. "But we definitely had that on Thursday."

"...Did you hit your head? Last night was Thursday."

They both gave each other puzzled looks.

"Hit the showers." Tim finally told Duke. "I should start getting ready for patrol."

"Yeah... Good plan. Good plan."

What was that about? He had no idea, but... Sounds like patrol was going to be a whole lot like it was last night. Tim finished slurping up his ramen and went to suit up.

***

And when his thigh got sliced by a Two-Face goon, Tim wasn't even surprised. Damian teasing him about it, Alfred talking about his birthday tomorrow...

Whatever was happening, it was an elaborate prank, but one Tim was too tired to deal with right now. In the morning, they would sort this out. Someone was master planning it all, that was for sure.

The question was who.

The question for tomorrow, that was. So he threw on his pajamas, made sure there were no alarms set, and fell asleep as soon as he hit the bed.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim finally figured it out, and they all celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fictober Day 19, in December. We love that. But mama didn't raise no bitch

Tim took what he said before about nothing being significant about his birthday anymore back at this point. Clearly it was significant, or this wouldn't be happening right now. He was just ready for time to start continuing on its regular course again, not repeating the pattern of July seventeenth over and over in some kind of weird, twisted TV trope. He was so fucking done, honestly.

Because every single day it just went the same way.

"Drake, stop-"

"Messing around?" Tim guessed, rolling his eyes; he had heard this shit too many times before. "I am working: downloading files. Why aren't you working?"

Damian scowled, his face smashing itself into a squishy approximation of Bruce's annoyed glare. "Because I was passing through the cave to grab something, clearly, and happened upon you slacking off."

"Not slacking off, waiting for a download." He corrected. "Besides, I've already got this whole case figured out."

"You cannot-"

"Watch me." Tim stuck out his tongue, turned back around in his chair, and went back to scrolling on his phone.

Damian huffed, sounding like he was about to say something else, but deciding against it. He stormed out, boots echoing against the cave floor.

Hey, at least this loop thing let him fuck with Damian.

***

"Drake, it is-"

"Lunch time?" Tim spun around in his chair, tipping his head backwards to stare at the cave ceiling. "I'm not hungry, I ate breakfast and I've been sick for a while now so my throat isn't really loving the idea of solids."

"Then you should eat." He insisted, crossing his arms. "When you are sick, your body requires more energy to heal itself... Not like I care, Grayson sent me to tell you.

"...of course, Dami." Tim rolled his eyes. "And I have all of The Mortonson case lined up already, want me to send you the file?"

"Impossible. You just started-"

"Well, I do." He smirked, bringing his head down to he could look at him. "Do you want the file or not?"

Damian grumbled something under his breath, cramming his fists into his pockets. "Someone has to double check your sloppy work, Drake. Send the files to me."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to send them to someone else to double check?" Tim raised an eyebrow. "You probably have homework to get done over the weekend."

"You are insufferable."

"Don't you know it." He grinned.

"Send me the files." Damian demanded. "And get yourself some food!"

"Yeah, yeah... Whatever."

He was having way too much fun with this, but double checking his work gave him an idea. After all, there were more people he could contact...

An idea beginning to blossom, Tim began texting members of the family.

***

"Hey, Duke, have you noticed anything off for the past few days?"

Duke tugged off his helmet, casting a questioning look over at Tim. "What do you mean?"

"Things, I don't know, repeating? Like, I was eating ramen noodles and leftover chicken last night for dinner, too." He explained, before taking another bite of noodles. "Or injuries healing overnight?"

"Uh... No. You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Tim shrugged, watching him to see if he'd crack. "Just wondering."

"You sure you didn't hit your head?" Duke asked, looking him over. "Maybe you should get checked out."

"Yeah, maybe. I feel fine, though; I'll just have Alfred give me a quick concussion check before patrol."

"You do that." He nodded, setting down his helmet. "I'm headed to the showers; tell whoever's on patrol tonight good luck, it's bad out there."

"Can do, Duke."

So he didn't know anything. Duke tipped his head in a last acknowledgment on his way to the cave's showers, leaving Tim alone to his dinner. It wasn't like he really thought that he knew what was going on. Duke, Damian, and Alfred were all people he had talked to already, and none of them had seemed aware of any kind of loop. No tics betrayed lying, nothing. And so...

He would just have to check with everyone else.

***

"Stupid. I can't believe I was this stupid." Tim seethed, gripping the cut on his thigh. "I'm headed back to the cave to patch this up. Red Hood?"

"Nah, I'm staying out a little longer." Jason shook his head, glancing over the edge of the rooftop. "Still more work to do."

"Jeez, you know who you're starting to sound like?"

He scowled. "Don't you dare compare me to him, Red Replacement."

"Then don't sound like him." Tim grinned. "Hey, I've got a weird question, Hood."

"Shoot."

"Have the last few days felt like repeats?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Like I'm living the same day over and over again?"

"Yeah, like that." Tim perked up, and instantly regretted the change in posture, pain shooting through his leg. "Exactly."

"Nope, not more than always." He shook his head. "How much blood have you lost, R and R?"

"Never mind, then."

"Why do you ask?" Jason questioned, tipping his head. "Pretty weird thing to be wondering."

"It's... Nothing. I'll figure it out." Tim nodded, glancing out at whew Damian was fast approaching. "Alright, headed back."

"Good luck, Red. Don't die!"

"I'll try my best." He winked.

Damian rolled his eyes. "He will not die on my watch. Now come on, let us get back. Stupid of you, getting injured..."

***

Alfred patched Tim up, just like he had all of the times before. Well, almost. This time the jagged gash in his thigh was deep enough to need several stitches to hold together, before wrapping it all up, giving him some painkillers, and sending him off to bed.

It was so stupid. Each time that he got injured by that Two-Face goon he was more and more irritated by it. He knew that attack was coming! Shouldn't he be able to dodge it by now? How dumb was that?

But never mind preventable injuries, Tim had more important things to deal with. Namely...

Getting into an oversized tee shirt and boxers, for one. Stripping off the gross, sweaty underclothes he was wearing on patrol felt like freedom at last. A shower would have been great too, but...

He had a phone call to make.

***

The first thing Tim did when he woke up the next morning was touch his thigh, to see if the wound was still there. 

Of course, it wasn't. And neither were any of the text messages he sent to various members of the family yesterday to see what was going on with this whole thing.

Irritated by this whole ordeal, and not about to solve the Mortonson case again, Tim lay in bed for another half hour, just texting and calling, trying to get ahold of everyone he hadn't talked to yet.

Jason and Duke he sent texts to just to see how they would reply. He didn't think they knew what was going on, but how they responded could gauge whether or not they were telling the truth. It wasn't worth it to contact Damian the same way, though; if he knew what was going on, Tim would know that by now. Same thing from Alfred.

Which just left... Everyone else to double check.

Especially since he hadn't been able to get ahold of-

Tim's thoughts were interrupted by a coughing fit, his sore throat demanding attention. Jeez, that was the worst part about this whole thing: being sick as hell. He would have to find some cough drops, and get some coffee here soon.

And that's when Damian decided to knock.

"Drake, are you alive?"

"Yeah, Dami!" Tim groaned, rolling over in bed. "Why, are you here to finish me off?"

"No, Grayson sent me." He explained quickly. "You have been sick, and he was worried when you did not get up."

"Well, I'm up."

"Clearly." Tim could feel how he rolled his eyes though the door. "At any rate, it does nothing to wallow. If you are awake, you should be working! Crime does not take sick days, so neither can you!"

"Who do you think you are, my manager?" He scoffed, enjoying the indignant huff that came from the other side of the door.

"Please, you are not that important." Damian shot back. "Just... Get up. And eat something! You are terrible to yourself; and I don't want to fight you if you are weak."

"Yeah, yeah... I'll be up in a bit."

His footsteps stalked off, and Tim sighed, pushing off the covers. So much for his morning plans; now it was on to actual work.

Not that he wasn't working already, but now he had to make it look like it.

***

"Here are the Mortonson files I downloaded from the police, and the conclusion I came to. Double check the evidence for me? - Tim."

He knew that leaving that note for Dick to come back to after he got home from work was, well, a dick move, but right now? He couldn't bring himself to care. The files were downloaded, people were contacted...

And only one person in the family was acting suspicious. Out of character kind of suspicious. Tim had a feeling that it had to do with the fact that it was his birthday tomorrow; he would have to force a conversation.

But, right now? That was impossible. So all he could do was-

Tim's stomach rumbled loudly, declaring its apparent displeasure with the situation. Black coffee and cough drops wasn't enough today, he guessed.

Or, at least, this version of today.

Standing up from his desk and taking a moment to stretch, Tim squeezed his eyes shut. If everything went according to plan, his birthday really would be tomorrow. Finally.

He had spent what felt like an eternity trying to be eighteen, anyway. Or trying to still be a kid? Maybe both?

Rubbing at his tired eyes, he shook his head. Right now, he couldn't focus on that... He just needed food. Yeah. Kind of an in between, brunch meal. Now when Damian bothered him about lunch he could say that he had already eaten.

Sort of.

The kid meant well, really. He was trying his best to look out for him, and if that meant justifying caring by blaming it on Dick? That was fine by Tim. He saw right through it all.

Weird how living the same day over and over again on repeat made it obvious how much he cared.

But tomorrow. Tomorrow would finally be, well, actually tomorrow, and all of this would stop being so fucking crazy.

...hopefully.

***

"Hey, Zatanna? This is Red Robin. Are you busy?"

The phone call was easy enough to make; finding her number wasn't hard. Bruce kept that kind of information on the Bat Computer, and he already had access, so he hadn't even had to hack in. The hard part was actually getting ahold of her, but she picked up almost immediately.

Just lucky, he figured. Or like she was waiting.

"Always." She chuckled. "What is it, kid?"

"I was wondering if you might have something to do with a time-distortion prank someone appears to be playing on me." Tim explained. "If it were harmful I would have found some reason for it to be here. As is, I just keep re-living the same day over and over again."

"Interesting." Zatanna said, not really sounding like she was listening. "How many days did it take you to figure out?"

Yep. Definitely waiting.

"Well, I took extra days figuring out that it was Batman who got you to do it." He shrugged. "So that's not a fair question."

"I suppose." She agreed. "Happy early birthday, by the way." 

Tim sighed. "Bats really... Never mind, he really is like that, huh?"

"Yep. He really is. I'll reverse the spell before the day change, don't worry. Bye, Red Robin."

"Bye, Zatanna."

With that, she hung up. Well, he hadn't been wrong. That was a relief. He didn't think he was, but-

"So, you figured it out." 

Tim startled so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair, barely avoiding it by holding onto his desk. 

Bruce had, apparently, materialized behind him at some point. He was never one to miss an opportunity to sneak up on someone, after all.

"Yeah. So, this was all some kind of birthday prank?"

Bruce nodded. "I thought that it would be fitting."

"It... Well, it was that." Tim laughed. "Do you have any idea how many times I went through solving the Mortonson case and showing my work, on the off chance that this whole loop thing would stop?"

"Several." He answered simply. "And I backed up your information when you did it the first time, so I took the note off of Dick's desk."

"You- and you just watched me keep doing it?"

Bruce smirked. "I couldn't give it away."

"Yeah, that's fair." He rolled his eyes. "Happy birthday to me, I guess."

"Not quite. Since you're done with that, I'll send you the next files to start on."

"Right." Tim nodded. "Let's get to it."

***

Jason was more than a little bit confused wen Tim celebrated avoiding a knife slash from a Two-Face Goon on patrol, but he wasn't about to ask questions. Apparently, it had been a long day for both of them.

***

The next morning, Tim woke up - with no alarms set, like the world should be on a Saturday morning - and immediately checked the date.

July Eighteenth. His birthday. 

He was finally eighteen years old. An adult. Against all odds, he had made it. Somehow. 

Rolling out of bed, he tugged on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, slipping into a pair of slippers before making his way to the door. His throat still hurt, but maybe not so bad, and the knowledge that time was moving properly again was certainly making him feel better, too.

Now, to get some breakfast. He had seriously slept in; it was almost noon. There was no way he was getting away with just black coffee and a cough drop. Besides, if Alfred was around he would force him to eat at least something. 

But of course, nothing in this family could be simple.

As soon as he rounded the corner into the kitchen-

"Happy birthday, Tim!" The family was all gathered around, some of them more and some of them less happy to be there, but...

"Thanks, guys." He smiled. "Finally an adult, right?"

"Ugh, who let that happen?" Steph shuddered, a wide grin on her face. "You're not allowed to grow up."

"We're literally, like, the same age."

She shook her head. "No, I'm older than you. You're a baby."

"Yes, Drake, how are you an adult?" Damian stuck out his tongue at him.

That was still so annoying. 

"Uh, I was born eight- Approximately eighteen years ago?" Tim made eye contact with Bruce.

He just snickered.

"Come now, stop your useless fighting." Alfred sighed. "Now, while there is cake and punch, that does not constitute an appropriate breakfast, Master Timothy."

"Not even on my birthday?"

"No, I don't believe so."

Tim shrugged. "Eh, I tried. Alright, breakfast, then party."

***

Once he had shoved a bowl of cereal down his face, and several other people were questioned on whether or not they had eaten as well, the not-really-a-surprise party began. Steph was blasting music that they hadn't listened to in ages, but there was no way he was about to complain. Alfred brought out punch, and chocolate cake with those little bits of shaved chocolate on top that had to be the best thing on this planet. Jason challenged Damian at Halo and proceeded to absolutely destroy him...

Everything felt right. The earth was spinning. It was a little weird, since he didn't feel quite as up to being loud and excited as someone others did, but... 

That was alright...right? Things were good just being here, sipping at his punch, watching his siblings make complete fools of themselves. Seriously, if someone wasn't getting this on video-

He could usually rely on Duke for that. He was good about getting things on video... When he wasn't involved. Turns out his ability to see things before they happen was super convenient for knowing when to be filming.

Not everyone was being so out there, though. Bruce, in his characteristic manor, hung back by the wall, also just watching the whole thing unfold, and Tim had lost track of where Alfred went a while ago. Cass, who he did have a very tearful hug with, he had missed her while him she was gone, was probably hiding out somewhere with a piece of cake, laughing as Damian argued over how the video game was meant to be played, challenging Duke to a round now.

And Barbara and Dick were deep in conversation. Something about the moon being flat? That was usually up Tim's alley, not Dick's, but he wasn't about to question it.

Setting down his empty plate on the table, he walked over across the room. Just sitting here as watching everyone was great, but... He hadn't gotten to talk to him yet. Really talk to him.

Tim sighed as he leaned against the wall, settling in next to Bruce and taking a sip of his punch. "I feel like you just added a whole week to my life." 

"Not quite." He shrugged. "Five days? Six days?"

"Oh, shut up."

"Happy birthday, Tim. As much as we joke that you're not an adult..."

Tim swallowed. He could understand what was in Bruce's body language, in his tone. The way that he hid his face behind his cup of punch, turning away as if to glance over at the couch, where Damian and Duke were joking around precariously on the stairs, now. When they got there, he had no idea, but he wasn't thinking about that. He was proud of him, and there was no mistaking that from the subtle smile on his lips, from the shine in his eyes.

"Yeah." Tim choked out, nodding his head. "Yeah, I think I get it."

Bruce smiled a little wider. "I should probably make sure they don't kill each other."

"Definitely. Halo isn't really something to die over."

"Is that what they're fighting about?" 

He laughed. "Just go break it up."

Bruce nodded, walking away.

Yeah, this was it. His family. It had changed a lot over the years, and there were people who weren't here anymore, but... 

He had made it. And that was reason enough to celebrate.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: Supertinywords or Supertinybats!
> 
> Requests are open!
> 
> Comments are love <3


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